


The Love You Take

by quillingyousoftly



Series: MCU Kink Bingo fills [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Jack Rollins, Consensual Sex, D/s undertones, Established Relationship, Hair Pulling, Jealousy, Lingerie, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:55:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22597435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quillingyousoftly/pseuds/quillingyousoftly
Summary: "You waking up yet?" Jack asked, his hands rising to his belt to slowly unbuckle it. Too slowly.
Relationships: Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow
Series: MCU Kink Bingo fills [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1626025
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20
Collections: MCU Kink Bingo Round 4





	The Love You Take

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SplinterCell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SplinterCell/gifts).



> Written for the "Special Occassion: Wedding Night" square on my MCU Kink Bingo card.

Brock rested heavily against Jack's arm as his new husband checked his pockets for the key card to their honeymoon suite. He had never stayed so long on a wedding reception; as an early bird, he could make it until midnight and not a minute longer. But tonight was his own reception, so he had to stay up until the last guests dispersed just before sunrise, and no, sneaking away for a nap wasn't an option.

Jack finally opened the door, and Brock sighed in relief. His steps were sluggish as he walked in, Jack holding his arm just in case. The lucky bastard had slept in until noon while Brock had been awake since six in the morning, pre-wedding jitters not letting him go back to sleep. But everything had gone according to plan, and now that Brock was happily married, the bed on the far left of the suite was calling his name even as Jack approached the hot tub to fill it.

Jack went all out with the honeymoon suite; he had seemed to care about that more than about his attire, decorations or even cake. It was clear he wanted their wedding night to be special, perhaps to make it different from all the sex they had been having pre-wedding. The suite he finally decided on was spacious, with a king-sized bed with dark red sheets and rose petals arranged in a shape of a heart and a hot tub on the opposite side of the room—thankfully not a tacky heart-shaped one, but modest white with candles and two champagne flutes set on the edges. Through the wide, glass patio door, Brock could see the sky, still dark just before the first rays of sunshine. He sighed.

"Sweetheart, I'm too tired," he said regretfully.

Jack looked up from the hot tub, slowly loosening his tie and unbuttoning his vest. "You sure I can't wake you up?" he asked with a confident smirk that wasn't at all common on his face. 

Intrigued, Brock hesitated. "If you're talking about coffee, then I'll pass." He had definitely had too much during the reception, maybe even more than alcohol.

Jack didn't answer, just kept undressing with that smirk in place, and Brock watched. He lost the dress jacket, the tie and the vest, then started on the buttons of his button-up, and for the first time, Brock realized there was something underneath and it wasn't a plain undershirt. Brock glimpsed a crisp white lace just over Jack's pecs and his heart skipped a beat. Was it what he thought it was?

He wasn't left guessing for long; Jack finished opening his shirt and slipped it off his shoulders, revealing a short top on the thinnest straps, tightly hugging Jack's chest. Brock's eyes traveled down to the waistband of his dress pants still in place, the dawning realization he must have been wearing a matching bottom underneath making his cheeks burn.

It took him a moment to notice Jack stopped moving. He looked up the toned abs, the lacy top, and finally reached Jack's face. The confident smirk had faded away, and Brock realized it had been an act. 

"Well?" Brock prompted, nodding at Jack's pants, earning a small timid smile.

"You waking up yet?" Jack asked, his hands rising to his belt to slowly unbuckle it. Too slowly. The anticipation to see what the rest of the lingerie looked like lit a spark of desire.

"I'm getting there."

Brock was still physically tired as proved by the headache just behind his eyes, but he was significantly less sleepy than a moment ago. Jack let his pants drop to his knees, revealing  _ tiny _ lacy crisp white panties that were already struggling to contain his semi-erection. Brock took in a sharp breath, realizing he had been holding it.

Jack got rid of his pants and socks, and as Brock followed the movement of his hands, he noticed a garter. Holy shit. How did Jack manage to wear all that all day and night without Brock noticing?

And then it hit him he didn't; he must have sneaked away during the reception to put it all on. Sneaky bastard. No longer feeling the sand under his eyelids, Brock walked over to him, looking him up and down appreciatively.

"Now," he crooned, "you didn't go through the trouble of putting all of it on just to take it off and have a bath, did you?"

Jack beamed at him. "The bath was a plan B, in case you didn't like it."

"Well, I do like it, so stop wasting water."

Brock ran his hand over the top, enjoying the feeling of the soft lace against his skin. It was some high-end stuff, but he wasn't surprised Jack knew where to look for things like that. They had played dress-up before, but usually it was Brock squeezing himself into sexy costumes for Jack's enjoyment. He never really understood the appeal, but admiring Jack in the lingerie now, he thought he might start.

Jack turned and bent over to close the tap, and Brock realized with a jolt that the panties were a thong. He slapped Jack's ass with a grin, enjoying the small, surprised sound he made in response. Keeping his hand on one cheek, he trailed his gaze up Jack's toned back and the top, and noticed it was actually a laced corset. He run his free finger down the laces with a frown.

"Now," he said slowly, trying to keep his voice cool, "Who helped you put this on?"

Because last time he checked, Jack wasn't double-jointed.

Jack looked at him over his shoulder with a knowing smile. "It has a zipper on the side." He guided Brock's hand to it, and Brock's shoulders relaxed in relief. "But you're cute when you're jealous."

Brock made a face at him, then nodded at the bed. "Get up there and we'll see how cute I am."

Jack snickered to himself as he walked over to the bed, and Brock's gaze slipped back down to his ass, looking particularly enticing exposed in the thong. Jack sat down on the bed with his legs wide, feet resting on the mattress, and his hand slid down his abdomen to the lace between his thighs, caressing it…

Brock slapped his hand away. “Only when I tell you to.”

Jack bit his lower lip to keep quiet, but Brock still heard his shaky breath. Jack had a thing for being ordered around—no wonder he ended up marrying his commanding officer. Brock smirked to himself at the thought and gestured for Jack to get himself more comfortable. Jack rested his back against the stacked up pillows and spread his legs straight through the rose petals, disfiguring the heart. Brock brushed some of the petals away, but many still remained as he settled between Jack’s legs. He took his time caressing his body, all smooth skin and hard muscles, first with his hands, then with his lips, from his neck down his chest and abdomen, until he had Jack trembling, and his breathing, restricted by the tight top, grew ragged. 

“Enough teasing,” he said in a breathy voice, “Fuck me.”

Brock looked up with a glare, but he could feel his cheeks flush at those words all the same. “I decide. You take what I give you.”

“We’re both tired,” Jack reminded him. “In a few moments, you’ll tell me you’re not up for it.”

Brock barely stopped himself from cursing. Jack had always been an impatient lover, and as much as he loved Brock exploring him, he couldn’t take more than two minutes of it. Normally, Brock would ignore his pleas (or rather, indulge in them) and keep doing whatever he wanted with him, but this time Jack was right. Brock wanted Jack, wanted to fuck him, but it didn’t make his headache go away, so as much as he’d love to torture him some more, especially his cock trapped in its lacy prison—he’d love to watch it jerk beneath the thin fabric and the peeking out head turn swollen and purple—he knew he had to give it up tonight if he wanted to actually make love on his wedding night.

He hooked his fingers beneath the waistband and dragged the panties down Jack’s thighs along with the garter, and Jack sighed in relief.

“Thank God, fucking thing was uncomfortable.”

Brock dropped the panties and the garter on the bed beside him, chuckling. “Well, better get used to it, ‘cause I want more fun with it someday.” Judging by Jack’s smile, he didn’t mind at all. Brock slapped his hip. “On your hands and knees. The top stays.”

Jack positioned himself as instructed, his heavy erection bobbing between his thighs. As he did, Brock finally took care of his own clothes, shoving his pants and underwear down first to relieve his aching cock, then impatiently shaking of his jacket and unbuttoning his sweaty shirt. Fighting with his tie, he barked at Jack to get the lube.

He was finally mostly naked, with his pants still tangled around his ankles and his socks on, when a small tube hit the sheets near him. Brock picked it up and squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. It always amazed him how easily Jack’s body welcomed him, and it didn’t change tonight as he pressed in one finger at first, then two. Jack was already breathing hard, sweat dripping down his back, his cock bright red. Brock knew he was seconds away from begging, and it never failed to remind him how young Jack still was.

He slowed down his thrusts, burying his fingers only shallowly in Jack’s ass, close to his prostate but never quite reaching it, and Jack’s resulting whimper was a music to his ears.

“Brock.  _ Please _ .”

Brock grinned and pressed a soft kiss to the small of Jack’s back. “I got you.”

Teasing Jack was fun, but his own resolve was weakening, his rock-hard cock begging for attention. Jack whimpered again when Brock removed his fingers, his hole twitching. Brock licked his lips.

“You’re beautiful, Jack,” he said as he warmed more lube in his hands to coat his cock. “I don’t tell you enough. That lingerie is pretty, but not many men would pull it off.”

Jack didn’t respond, but Brock didn’t expect him to. He wasn’t great at taking compliments, just like Brock at giving them, but they were working on it. Brock lined himself up, resting one hand on Jack’s hip.

“I’m going in now.”

Jack pushed his ass back onto Brock’s cock eagerly, earning a slap on the hip.

“Just a little longer. Be patient.”

Brock momentarily closed his eyes when the head of his cock pushed past Jack’s rim into his velvety insides. He fucked himself in slowly, slipping deeper with each thrust, revelling in the familiar tightness around him. Jack’s arms trembled under him, his breath growing heavier with each shallow thrust.

“You okay in there?” Brock asked once his abdomen pressed against the small of Jack’s back. Jack only let out a needy little sound in response. Brock chuckled. “Speechless already?”

He pulled almost entirely out, leaving just the tip against Jack’s hole, then thrust back in, the power of it sending Jack to his elbows. He let that slide.

“I guess you’ve been waiting all day for this moment, haven’t you?” he asked in a low voice between sharp intakes of breath. “How many hours did you spend with your dick stuffed in those panties? Two? Three?”

Jack met his next thrust with a moan. Brock manhandled his hips into the angle he knew Jack liked best, then grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled, urging him to return to his position.

“Oh, fuck—” Jack got his hands back under him, but Brock grabbed one arm and twisted it behind his back.

“You can touch yourself now, sweetheart.”

“Fucking—” Jack spat, knowing there was no way he could get his only free hand onto his dick without breaking his position. “You fucking—I hate you—”

Brock grinned. “Why marry me then?”

Instead of trying to touch himself just to fail, Jack forced a faster rhythm, his string of curses changing into low grunts. Bordering on animalistic, the sounds went straight to Brock’s cock pulsing in Jack’s tight heat. He watched locks of Jack's hair stick to his flushed back and drops of sweat run down and disappear beneath the delicate lace. He ran his hand from Jack's hip up his stomach and chest, caressing the smooth fabric.

"Go on, sweetheart," he panted into Jack's ear.

Being mostly held up by Brock’s arm now, Jack reached between his legs, exhaling a soft sound of relief at the much needed attention. It didn't take long after that for his body to tense and shudder. His ass clamped around Brock, bringing him to his own orgasm. His arm gave out under Jack’s weight, and they both flopped onto the mattress, breathless.

A few moments passed before Brock finally found it in him to roll off and out of Jack, wincing at the drag around his sensitive cock. Jack didn’t react, so Brock poked him in the ribs.

“You awake?” he asked, his voice a little hoarse, and cleared his throat.

Jack turned his head to look at him. His eyes were half-closed. “Yeah.”

“Not for long, I see.”

Jack made an affirmative sound. Brock should have gotten up, brought a towel, and cleaned them. Gotten rid of the messy sheets and those stupid rose petals. At the very least, he should have brought them water. But before he worked up the resolve, he fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> We talked about putting Jack in this lingerie years ago, but I knew I'd do it one way or another.


End file.
